A Thousand Years (And More)
by teaandotherstuff
Summary: Neville still visits his parents after the war, and still holds the childish hope in his heart that they will one day recognize him. He would wait a thousand years and more to hear them say his name. Just once.


Neville couldn't have ever imagined just how ordinary life would be after the war.

He'd began Hogwarts as nothing more than a clumsy little boy, and had left as one of the most courageous wizards of his age, overcoming every fear, every shortfall, with surprising optimism and nerve. He had taken strides over evil, and stood up to the people he was most afraid of losing, and yet still he remained one of the most humble individuals to ever walk the Earth. It was something Hannah still couldn't believe after so many years.

That wasn't to say he hadn't suffered, because he had. During the war felt less of a struggle than afterwards. Amidst the violence, the threat, there was a strong spark of survival keeping them walking forward, lighting the fire in their bones and steeling them against any loss. But when it was all over, when Voldemort was gone...there was just a crippling ache as they remembered what was no longer there, and nightmares filled the place where dreams had been.

But it was not a new loss than preoccupied Neville's mind, it was an old one; it was within the Janus Thickey Ward that his heart and his hopes still lay, because no matter how many times he tried to encourage talented healers to further progress and spend time in researching mental health progression in the wizarding world, it never brought his parents back. He yearned to tell them that despite what Neville's Grandmother had said, he had done them so proud and the wizarding world had come so far since the time they knew.

He wanted to tell them that the utter demons that had maimed them were no more, or rotting away in Azkaban. He wanted to tell them that he was a Professor now in Herbology. He wanted them to meet and recognise Hannah, his wife. He wanted them to know that he had lived past the biggest hurdles in his life, and he had done well, and that he pinned it all on them and the strength they had given him. His one true inspiration and his pride.

But their eyes still stared without really seeing, and no coherent words ever passed their lips. They gazed around the room, only ever settling on Neville's eyes once or twice with a blank kind of stare that always gave him chills. It was frightening. They had no recognition of him whatsoever. Their son...their only son and they didn't know it was him anymore. The boy they had loved to death and had been willing to die for. It was sometimes enough to nearly break Neville, but he'd been through so much and he knew, he knew that his parent's suffered what they did so he would be able live and thrive, to have a fighting chance in a world that had once been so dark.

Neville still kept the gum wrappers his Mother gave him, almost like if he collected enough, collected some specific amount she might remember _something_. It was silly and childish, but he just wanted some form of recognition so much that he was willing to put his hopes into made-up theories and a bedside table full of wrappers. Neville visited almost every weekend now if he could manage it, along with Christmas, birthdays and any other special occasion. It was the same routine, his Mother, Alice, almost fondly dropping gum wrappers into his hand and nearly managing a far-off smile. His Father, however, simply watched him before his gaze drifted away and off to some unknown thing.

All it took was one day where it was too much, and a little of Hannah's influence, for things to change.

Neville hated how it was classed as the incurable ward. It was so definite and void of hope, and that was all Neville had left to rely on. That, addled with the fact that his Mother had failed to give him a gum wrapper that evening proved to be a little too much. It was like a dam breaking, when it happened. He built up defenses and every now and then they would crumble and break away, leaving him raw and vulnerable while his body slowly rebuilt the next half-hazard wall. Hannah had come to meet him before he left the ward, but as Neville approached her she could see in his eyes that he was near breaking point. In a hurry to get out of the public eye, she apparated both of them home with only a little warning.

Neville's eyes filled up and he let out a small, choked sob the minute they hit familiar ground. Hannah's eyes grew sad and concerned, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and encasing Neville in a warm embrace. She did nothing else, but murmur comforting things into her ear, clutching him and letting the dam break. She promised from then on she'd accompany Neville to every possible visit, if only for moral support. Hannah had always considered it a private moment for Neville to visit his Mother and Father - but he didn't reject the idea, he didn't respond negatively at all. He nodded, weakly, and let himself be guided to bed.

He slept a sleep of the dead, not bothering to eat, and woke up with Hannah clutching his arm and a god-awful ache behind his eyes, and in his heart.

He spent the next few days lower than he'd ever been since the war, a mixture of pure, relentless pain and unexplainable guilt, feeling as though his childish actions were somehow letting his parents down. But through the suffocating grief he let Hannah take him back the next weekend to see Alice and Frank, and he wouldn't have forgotten that day for anything in the world.

The first fifteen minutes of the visit were like any other, except now their gazes sometimes settled on Hannah for a moment, before leaving to stare intently at walls and ceilings. Neville was beginning to get nervous, wondering if Alice was losing her ability to recognise even more, forgetting even to hand him his usual wrapper as some form of recognition. But soon the worry was brushed away, as Alice turned to him, the beginnings of a smile on her lips and handing Neville yet another crumpled up wrapper.

"Thanks, Mum." Neville said, genuinely happy about the small bit of rubbish, and smiled as bright as he could manage. Alice seemed to nod a little.

Hannah took the moment to look over, placing her hand gently on Neville's arm to get a look of what it was. Seeing it was only a wrapper, she internally raised her eyebrow, but she was quick to pick up on the best form of action, and she smiled along with Neville.

"That's lovely, Mrs Longbottom." Hannah said, and Neville turned to his wife and smiled fondly, adoring how genuine she sounded compared to the patronising tone of her Grandmother when she visited.

And something, slowly, rustily, seemed to click.

Alice appeared to watch the exchange, her eyes widening just slightly, and almost feverishly she began to move around, as though looking for something. Neville was alarmed at first, not seeing such energy in such a small movement before. Even Frank appeared to have perked slightly, though not so much, and Hannah eyed Neville curiously. Alice seemed to have found what she wanted, and fiddled with the item in her hand for a moment, before clutching it in her fist and offering it over to Hannah. Neville's heart was pounding, and he watched his Mother intently, trying to decode what was going on.

Hannah, not thinking anything of it, offered her own hand out and watched as Alice dropped yet another wrapper into the palm of her hand. She smiled again, like Neville, genuinely pleased to have been given such a nice offering. She eyed it as though intrigued with the object, and turned her gaze up into Alice's.

"Thank you so much, this is lovely."

And then Alice's actions returned to normal.

Neville was still explaining to Hannah why it was so important an hour after they returned home that night, and Hannah was so glad to see the light in Neville's eyes returning, bit by bit. Hannah knew then and there that she was determined to go with Neville every single time, work commitments or not.

It took a long, long time for things to progress further, but Neville was used to waiting, and took it easily in his stride. It was just an ordinary weekend when Frank decided to smile. Usually, it was Alice who showed the only signs of trying to form one, but as Neville and Hannah were discussing something quietly to themselves, they noticed Frank stirring and moved their gazes to find him smiling softly, as though recognising the connection Hannah and Neville had - as though silently approving of the pair.

Neville had smiled back, and his Father's expression had remained unchanged. He smiled almost right up until the moment they left, and Neville decided to have a chat with a nurse about it almost straight after visiting times were up. He was slightly disheartened to know that patients made occasional strides like this, but nothing definite or great would come of it according to her.

Hannah, later that night, told Neville that it shouldn't dishearten or worry him. Neville had simply beamed up at her and nodded.

"I know, but it's already more than enough. Even if nothing else changes it's...it's still something."

It was not so much as a week after when Alice made another unusual leap, and even a nearby nurse overlooking the scene was surprised, telling her superior about it later that day. Alice, although giving up on saving gum wrappers for her two favourite visitors, had now began saving the gum itself, smiling as though thrilled when both Neville and Hannah unwrapped and popped the gum into their mouths and chewed. Neville very nearly saved the gum itself as a momentum, but as Hannah assured him, she figured if his parents were in their right minds they'd rather him not.

Neville was informed on his next visit that the nurses at St. Mungo were now keeping a very close eye on his parents, trying to figure out and monitor what was triggering their new and rather coherent behaviour, or if it was an effect of the ever improving work healers were now putting into cases such as these.

But, unfortunately, the progression seemed to stop and some days, reverted back into old habits and motions. Some days, both Neville and Hannah would receive full packs of gum, other days they would not be graced with so much as a glance from either of them. But Neville battled on, like he always did, because he'd meant what he said to Hannah. It was enough to simply have them there, to be breathing and existing. Despite what some people said, that they'd be better off dead, Neville was so thankful that they weren't.

Neville was alone when he visited his parents to aimlessly explain that he wouldn't be around for the next fortnight due to having to monitor a new batch of plants daily back at Hogwarts, that would otherwise wither before they reached maturity. He said it many times, hoping, in vain, that he'd received a nod or smile, but to no avail. He stood up, running a hand across his jaw and went to leave.

He kept telling himself he was grateful they were alive. But once, just once, he wanted them to recognise him. Just to keep him going for a few more years. He missed them so much. So very-

"Neville?"

Neville stopped at the doorway, and he froze. He turned around slowly to see Alice staring intently at him, the cogs of her mind not quite understanding what she was doing, but she knew that her visitor was familiar and kind, and was planning on leaving, and she had a familiar name in the back of her mind. A special name she'd once upon a time said more times than she'd breathed.

"Neville?" She muttered again, and Neville's eyes began to fill up, smiling slowly.

"Mum?"

Alice smiled, somehow knowing that word was related to her. It was a good word. Warm and strong. And for the first time in years, Frank's hand settled upon Alice's, as though recognising the tones and pattern of words, knowing it related to this one, familiar action. Neville tried not to sob, tried not to scare his Mother and Father but after years of being denied that affectionate tone, his own name, it was hard to keep himself under control. As he heard his Mother's voice again for the first time since he was a mere infant, he knew that if he never heard this voice again, that he could carry on.

Because that one word, and one action, was worth a thousand lifetimes of waiting.


End file.
